


Dress

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 14:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21078095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Faramir and Aragorn change for dinner.





	Dress

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He isn’t quite sure how to fit it correctly, though it feels like he’s stripped similar robes from Aragorn’s handsome figure dozens of times before. Granted, he was always distracted then, never paying much attention to the fabric itself but the body underneath, and he’d hurry to see it bare. He runs his fingers around the neckline, the silken material folded across his chest, and Aragorn’s arms reach about his waist. He watches Aragorn’s hands smooth along the thick tie around his hips in the reflection of the mirror.

Finally, Faramir comes to his conclusion. He sighs, “I look silly.”

“You look beautiful,” Aragorn counters. It still warms Faramir’s heart, even though Aragorn’s said those words so many times, and Faramir never _quite_ believes them. He trusts Aragorn, of course: his king is a noble, honest man, but perhaps biased in this case. Faramir will never understand Aragorn’s affection for him. Aragorn smiles softly as though he knows what Faramir is thinking.

The two of them stand there for a long moment, dressed for dinner in the robes that have been given to them. Naturally, they came with their own, but the journey from Gondor to Imladris is a long one, and everything they brought is dirty. Lord Elrond was kind enough to provide them with changes of clothes—robes that Aragorn slipped so easily into. He wears the Elven garb like he was born to do so: he walks amongst the elves with just as much wisdom and grace. It reminds Faramir just how lucky he is. 

Faramir is only a Man, a humble captain of a few ragged guards, oftentimes a ranger. He doesn’t belong in such splendor. The material itself feels more valuable than anything that Faramir owns. It’s a deep crimson that grows lighter as it rises, embroidered with many golden flowers, intricate and artful: far beyond the skill of anyone from his home. The trim is silver and brown, walking the line between simple fabric and built in jewelry. He feels like they’ve given him the attire of a prince, and he feels whole unworthy of it. 

But Aragorn looks pleased with this development. His chin hooks over Faramir’s shoulder, his hands no longer exploring, now just embracing. Aragorn’s body flattens up against his back, and Faramir leans into that comfort and his warmth. 

“I’ll be hard pressed to peel this away tonight,” Aragorn murmurs. “You look so lovely in it, though nothing can top the way you look in nothing.” 

Faramir smiles and almost laughs. He understands, because he feels the same way about Aragorn’s white-silver robes. He always enjoys seeing something of _Estel_. He hopes he learns more of Aragorn’s youth from Lord Elrond at the feast, although he already feels like he knows Aragorn’s very soul. 

After a final look, long and lingering, Aragorn pulls away. Faramir turns, forgoing the mirror for his partner. He brushes a kiss over Aragorn’s lips, only light and chaste, because it would be appropriate to do any more. Aragorn cups his cheek and draws him back for something full and open: Aragorn’s tongue dips inside his mouth and Aragorn’s body stands hard against him. 

When they part, Faramir’s nerves have faded. Parts of Imladris are intimidating, because how could Faramir ever compete with _elves_, but that doesn’t matter anymore. This is Aragorn’s home, and Faramir’s home is with him. 

Aragorn slips his hand into Faramir’s. Their fingers lock together, and Aragorn guides them out into the evening.


End file.
